’ I gently put the wreckage of my violin back into the case, and closed the lid on it. ‘Some,’ he murmured. ‘I sing. It goes with the territor....’ ‘Karaoke?’ I asked, acidly. He grinned. ‘Good guess, but no. Chamber choir, mainly.’ ‘Wow. Today just keeps getting weirder. Go to work, get crapped out by my new boss, fall down stairs, destroy part of my soul, and get chatted up by a baritone in a hospital coffee shop. Go me,’ I added, bitter. ‘Are you always this angry?’ ‘No,’ I swallowed, shaking. He shook my hand, and I told him I wanted tobecome a patient of his."Just what would you like me to do Ms. Grant? Nose? Lips? Breastimplants?"I looked over his shoulder and saw that he was a plastic surgeon! Thenit hit me."Boobs. I want to have boobs." Excellent! Now then, if you'll follow my nurse, I'll do a check upbefore we begin."I was wearing one of those gowns with no back to them when he came in.He slid the gown down, exposing my male chest with the twin mounds ofsilicone glued to it. He. More

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